


Birthday Musings

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:11:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack throws Derek a birthday party for his 26th, and things obviously end up getting a little weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday Musings

Derek flicks the light to the loft on and frowns around the room.

 

“Happy birthday!” A chorus of voices ring out, and fucking streamers are surrounding him and flying past his head and out the door. Scott is standing amongst the crowd, grinning to his ears and swinging one of those stupid noise makers in violent circles, Isaac is still in the progress of hanging a sign up over the threshold and looking like a dog caught eating food directly out of the bag as he’s surrounded with chewed up paper all over the floor, and Boyd and Erica are making out on the couch. Erica isn’t even looking at the door, even after the crowd screams into Derek’s face.

 

Derek stands and stares.

 

“No.”

He flicks the light back off, but before he can turn to leave, someone in the dark is front of him, pressing insistently with the palm of his hand at the flat of Derek’s chest, and Derek is hit with a familiar scent that stops his departure.

 

“God damn; you’re such a grump.” And apparently Stiles is there. He should have expected that he would be the source of the whole thing. The light flickers on and Derek’s first view is of Stiles’s face, with his hand still pushing at him, now at his abdomen. Derek, at first, is stunned into silence at his bright smile with the top teeth showing and the glitter along Stiles’s cheekbones, sparkling in the light.

 

It causes him to blurt out, “you have glitter on your face.” Stiles runs a hand through his messy hair, still grinning, and it grows. He looks like he’s already been partying, with a blush along his cheek bones and his hair akin every which way; his outfit looks ruffled and worn. Derek sniffs, and the scent seems stronger right there, but Stiles pokes at his pectoral, distracting him from his thoughts on it.

 

“Great observation, birthday boy.” He slings an arm loosely over Derek’s shoulder, using it to propel Derek into the small group of people congregated in his living room. Derek tilts his head and looks back to Stiles, who is leaning back against a wall with one foot crossed in front of the other, with more composure than Derek would have expected from him; it seems sort of practiced. “Lydia said I needed “spicing up” for the party and did all of this,” he motioned to his face with a circular motion, a grin flashing behind his hand. “So dude, you’d better not insult me because Lydia will kill you.”

           

“Wasn’t going to,” Derek replies, grudgingly being pulled into a hug by Isaac who’d climbed down from the ladder he was perched on, but refused to reciprocate it. “I told you not to tell Stiles my birthday,” he mumbles grouchily into his ear, frowning at Isaac’s laughter ringing in his ear.

           

“Sorry, he threatened to hide wolfsbane in my drinks until it slowly killed me if I didn’t tell him.” Isaac doesn’t sound sorry at all, and Derek wonders if Stiles had even needed to resort  to any kind of threats, but says “totally unnecessary,” to Stiles anyways, who is hovering around and looking like he’s attempting not to listen when he obviously is.

           

He shrugs. “You know how I am, to the point.” His eyes widen because he seems to remember something, and he says “speaking of “to the point,”” hauling himself to bend over the arm of the couch, rooting for something hidden there before lifting it up to the light. “I laced it with wolfsbane,” he says, shaking the bottle of liquor with a mischievous grin, and Scott whoops from behind Derek.  “Guess who’s getting drunk?”

           

“Not me,” Derek replies immediately, his eyebrows furrowing. “Where do you even get all of this wolfsbane anyways?”

           

Stiles frowns at him, but probably knows that he’s not going to win a fight over the issue, so he says “buzzkill,” and puts the bottle back. Derek tries not to stare at Stiles’s back as he bends over, moving to sit on the stairs next to Peter and his uncle pats at his knee.

 

Erica flops over the edge of the couch again after disconnecting herself from Boyd, grabbing the bottle and clutching it to her chest. “Doesn’t mean we can’t drink though!” she exclaims, her curls splayed over the back of the couch as she pops the lid off, tilts the bottle to take a sip, and hands it off to Boyd who does the same.

 

In an hour, somehow Isaac and Scott have pulled the Xbox out and started a marathon of drunk zombie killing, Erica and Boyd are watching a still-sober Stiles try and breakdance frantically, and Peter is hanging upside down from the tall ceiling like a vampire bat, watching them all creepily with his blue eyes flickering on and off.

 

Meanwhile, Derek has been sitting surrounded by little wrapped presents and the person who’s given the present will look over for a couple of minutes to see how he’ll react. He’s been trying to distract himself from that damn smell that keeps stuffing his nose and blurring his mind as much as alcohol would have if he’d drank. Shaking his head, he opens the next present.

 

“Thanks Erica,” he says, setting down a bright and disgustingly pink speedo amongst Peter’s box of condoms (“I’m 26, I don’t need you to buy me these,” he had said, and it had gotten the most reaction out of anyone else’s, to which Peter fist pumped), Scott’s “I’m a Grumpy Old Man” t-shirt, a clock that ran backwards from Erica, mop-slippers from Isaac (“You can mop the floor when you walk, Derek!”), and the camouflage snuggie from Boyd.

 

He opens Lydia’s, and of course she buys him lube. He frowns, not bothering to let anyone know he’d opened it, but still deciding that he was going to use it. The last gift is Stiles, and he stops breakdancing to watch as Derek tears the wrapping off of the small box. Derek lifts the lid up, and goes cold as he lifts up a golden pocket watch.

 

Peter is watching him closely, knowing fully well that the memory of his father checking his pocket watch hung on his belt loop every morning is flashing through his mind. It had been a special thing for him, something he would do before going on the train, to make sure he wasn’t late for work, and he checked his special watch that had been lost in the fire before picking Derek up from school. Derek tries to swallow through the lump forming in his throat, turning the similar looking watch to look at the inscription on the back that reads “ _for the grumpy old man: happy 26th dude -Stiles.”_

 

Oblivious, Stiles flops onto the carpeted floor next to him, rolling onto his stomach.  
“Like it? Now you won’t feel too much in the future and you can check the time whenever you want, old man.” He smiles kindly, jabbing at Derek’s ribs awkwardly while he leans on his one shoulder, falling over because his balance seems to disappear, and he laughs while he’s on the ground on his back. The glitter on his face is almost gone now, but is smeared along the planes of his neck and some flecks of glitter are on his nose. Derek watches him sit up, leaning with his right arm behind his back and scratching at the lower back part of his head, smiling coyly. “It’s not like, obviously, real gold or anything, so it wasn’t worth a ton, but the thought, right?”

 

Derek means to answer, but he stares at Stiles while he sways to the quiet music playing over the speaker in the corner of the room. “Dude?” Stiles asks, snapping his fingers, and is about to talk, but Derek crouches up quickly to cover his mouth with his own, and he seems to give up on talking because he’s kissing back, clutching at his neck. They’re quick pecks of lips that quickly turn to more, adding more pressure and tongue, eventually teeth, and Stiles is clawing at Derek’s hip to pull him closer on his knees so they’re kneeling in front of each other and still kissing.

 

Derek decides to ignore Peter huffing, Isaac clapping in joy, Scott making a disturbed and confused noise and calling Stiles’s name (and he takes it as a good sign that Stiles does too) and Erica telling Boyd that he owes her twenty bucks. Instead, he focuses on how intensely Stiles kisses, tilting his head to get a perfect angle and scratching with his blunt nails at the nape of Derek’s neck. Derek’s pretty sure that Peter gets up and leaves, but he doesn’t lift his head to check and make sure.

 

Eventually, Derek groans into Stiles’s mouth and Stiles leans forward on his knees, surging up to kiss him deeper. Derek flips him quickly, landing with a huff on top of Stiles, settling his weight as gently as he can. He makes a quiet noise at Stiles running his hands over his shoulders, connecting their mouths again.

 

Stiles separates with a chuckle, resting his forehead and panting against Derek’s skin. “Danny was right; the Armani is totally a magnet for dudes,” he squawks as Derek bats him in the side, slowly running his own hands up the rim of the hem of Derek’s shirt.

  
“H _aaaappy birthday,”_ Erica pipes up from behind them, and she pockets her phone with a lecherous grin after presumably shutting off her recorder, and Derek growls at her, biting Stiles on the collarbone when he laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been on a roll with the ficlets lately, so I thought I'd write some fluffy and crack-y stuff. This is one of the first things that I've written in the present tense, and it's not something that I usually do, but I kind of like it now that I've tried it. So, that said, I hope you enjoy!


End file.
